


Turns

by orphan_account



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1963. Jasper Whitlock is a smart boy with a bright future – college, marriage & taking over the family business. When Edward Cullen comes to town, he shakes Jasper's world to the core. Sometimes, it's the unexpected that makes life worth living.</p><p>Warnings and Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Warning: this story includes difficult / sensitive subject matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turns

_**"Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you was beyond my control."**   
_

_**Unknown** _

 

**Turns**

**  
**

There was a time when Jasper saw his life as a long empty road, dotted with trees here and there along the way…maybe a range of mountains in the distance where it disappeared over the horizon. No curves or dangerous dips or patches marred with potholes, at least nothing of significance.

He'd known from a young age where his road would lead…heavy expectations placed on skinny shoulders.

_Someday all of this will be yours._

_I've done it all for you._

_Make me proud._

Sometimes the skies over his stretch of highway shone clear and blue. Once in a while, darkness fell, the air heavy with stormy electricity as blades of lightning flashed down beside him.

But most of the time, it was just a little overcast, clouds more white than gray disrupting the perfection of the sky.

Safe. Comfortable. Embracing in its familiarity, like an old blanket wrapped around your shoulders against the evening chill.

Now and then, he'd catch a glimpse of a side road as he flew by, and for a moment, he would wonder…

_What if?_

But just as quickly as the thought appeared, it would vanish, as his eyes turned forward toward the horizon.

~0~

He expected he'd marry Alice Brandon someday.

Not that it was something he wanted or didn't want; it was just something he expected would eventually come to pass. Like going to State in his old man's footsteps, or being groomed to take over the family business once he returned.

Whitlock Automation had yet to break into the Fortune 500, but if Jasper Senior had anything to say about it, it would before he handed it over to his son.

For his part, Jasper had always accepted his future with resignation, if not excitement. He knew he should probably be more grateful. It was 1963, the dawn of a new era and – as people kept telling him – he was a smart boy with a bright future.

A future laid out for him in a straight line – college, career, marriage and family.

And his father had already expressed his approval of Alice. She came from a good family – and would make a fine wife someday.

His father's words, not his.

Jasper pondered the thought as he watched Alice across the gymnasium, legs flashing in her little cheerleader skirt as she kicked up over her head.

There were worse things than flexibility, he imagined.

"Quit ogling the cheerleaders," Ben said with a grin, elbowing him good-naturedly. "There's no way we'll beat Marshall if you can't keep your eyes off Alice."

Jasper shrugged, smiling slightly as he caught the basketball Ben passed a little too hard. He grunted and shuffled quickly to one side, then the other, easily sweeping past his teammate and shooting a lay-up.

Jasper smirked, rebounding the ball himself and passing it back to Ben. "Could do that with my eyes _closed,_ _"_ he said cockily.

Ben laughed. "Asshole."

The rest of practice went, well, like practice always went. They ran drills. The cheerleaders practiced pyramids. Coach Kirpane yelled a lot.

Just a typical Wednesday. Like so many Wednesdays before.

Jasper went through the motions by rote, dribbling, shooting, running…his muscles taking over without any input from his brain.

It was something he'd always found comforting in the past – the familiar, the mundane…always knowing what to expect.

But for some reason, today it left him feeling prickly and uneasy.

He considered the change as he walked home, as he smiled through dinner and answered his father's questions about school…homework…the upcoming game against Marshall.

He considered it as they gathered around the new television set and watched Walter Cronkite speak on about President Johnson's press conference – where he answered questions about his efforts to try and lessen tensions with the Soviet Union, and refused to answer questions about the possibility of sending naval ships to the Indian Ocean.

There was no mention of President Kennedy. Less than a month since he'd been assassinated, yet the world went on as it always had.

The thought filled Jasper with a sense of melancholy. If a president – a man on whom the hopes of a nation rested – could be replaced so easily, what did that say about the destiny of a normal person?

He sighed and went to bed early, tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning.

~0~

They beat Marshall soundly.

And Jasper found he couldn't care less. He didn't even feel like going to the diner with his friends after the game to celebrate, claiming a sore knee and an early morning in explanation for his uncharacteristic lack of school spirit.

He trudged up the stairs to his room in silence – his parents had decided on a late dinner, and his sister Rosalie was still out at the drive-in with her boyfriend, Emmett – and collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling idly. A flash of lights through the window drew his attention, followed by the loud slam of a car door, and the screech and scratch of a radio as someone finally settled on low, muffled music. Curious, Jasper went to the window, peering out at the vacant lot across the street. An old truck was parked crookedly across the driveway of the house that once sat on the lot, but burned down years ago and was never replaced. He couldn't determine the truck's color in the dim light of the streetlight down the way – only that it was dark, and he knew enough about cars to tell by the shape that it was an old Ford – maybe 1947 or '48.

A man leaned against the driver's side door, one leg bent and his foot propped against the running board, tapping slightly in time with the music. His head tilted back as he gazed at the sky, and Jasper wasn't certain if he saw or imagined the man taking a deep breath, exhaling heavily as he huddled in his coat against the cold. A heavy tension filled the air, and the man seemed to vibrate with it as he lifted a hand to his mouth; a brief red glow indicated he was smoking a cigarette.

Jasper watched the man, for some reason compelled, yet vaguely uneasy, although not in an unpleasant way. A low voice wended its way to Jasper's window, and he realized the man was singing along to the radio. He cracked the window quietly, so he could hear a little more clearly. The man's voice was rough-smooth, following the melody perfectly, but with a touch of almost disdain – like he didn't even like the song but had heard it so many times he couldn't help but sing along. Jasper didn't realize it at first, but the idea made him smile.

The lights of an approaching car swept along the charred foundation of the house before lighting briefly on the man's face, just as he blew a stream of smoke into the air and licked his bottom lip, flicking a stray bit of tobacco onto the ground. Jasper's breath caught, although he couldn't explain why. He just gaped in stunned amazement as the man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly as the car drove by and his face disappeared again into the darkness.

Jasper leaned his forehead against the cool glass, his eyes still focused on the man's shadowed figure as his heart pounded heavily in his chest.

What the hell had just happened?

The man flicked his cigarette onto the ground just as another car came around the corner. He turned and lifted his gaze just as the headlights lit up his face, and Jasper gasped when he seemed to look straight at him. His eyes, dark and mysterious, held Jasper captive, frozen in place for a long moment, and he absently realized that the man wasn't as old as he'd first assumed. His face was unlined, topped by a fall of dark hair he shoved back from his forehead in irritation…his focus still apparently on Jasper's window.

Could he see him? No…not in the darkness. It was just a coincidence.

Jasper's thoughts cut off as the car swung into his driveway, his parents returning home from dinner. They pulled to a stop in front of the garage, and when Jasper looked back across the street, the man – no, the _boy_ – was already in his truck, backing out onto the road and driving away.

He closed the window quietly and went to bed, lost in thought.

~0~

"What in the world are you staring at?" Jasper jumped at Rosalie's hissed question, flushing hotly and turning back to his locker.

"Nothing."

Rosalie stretched to look over his shoulder, scanning the crowd. "Ah, the new guy. Have you met him yet?"

Jasper's lock failed to open, and he shook it hard before spinning the dial again and starting over. "I wasn't looking at the new guy."

Edward. He'd learned his name was Edward.

"Could have fooled me," she said airily, pulling out a mirror to check her lipstick. She patted her hair and adjusted her sweater set. "I hear he's kind of a jerk."

"Why do you say that?" Jasper asked, unable to resist.

Rosalie shrugged. "Doesn't really talk to anyone. Seems a little stuck up, even though he's just a farm boy."

"Nothing wrong with being a farm boy, Rosalie."

She sniffed. "I know that. But look at him, dressed like a Beatnik and always carrying around that guitar case. Who does he think he is, Bobby Darin?"

Jasper fought the urge to point out that Bobby Darin was neither a Beatnik nor a guitar player, but Rosalie had moved on anyway. She popped her gum and raised her arm to wave at Emmett, all talk of Edward forgotten. "Gotta go. See you after school."

Jasper nodded, pulling out his English book and daring another glance at Edward. He leaned against the wall down the hallway, guitar case at his feet as he flipped through a paperback book, ignoring everyone around him. Rosalie was right about how he dressed, all in black from head to toe – black trousers and shoes, black turtleneck sweater under a black wool coat, and a black scarf wrapped around his neck. A pair of sunglasses perched atop his head, holding his reddish mass of hair back from his face.

Jasper couldn't explain the strange feeling he got in his stomach when he looked at him…or his even stranger obsession with learning more about him.

He'd spotted him a couple of times over Christmas vacation, always driving the same beat-up red truck. It only took a few subtle questions and a lot of listening to learn who he was – Edward Cullen, whose father, Carlisle, had taken over the old Hale Farm just outside of town. He was seventeen like Jasper, a senior like Jasper, and rumor had it he had been expelled from his last school, and that was why he and his father had left Chicago. Some said it was fighting, others drinking and driving…still others that he'd performed some kind of lewd act on school property.

Of course, Jasper knew better than to believe rumors, but they still fed his curiosity about the guy. And when he'd shown up at school, Jasper found he'd go out of his way to cross Edward's path – walking the long way to class, hanging around in the parking lot at lunch instead of the cafeteria…angling his desk just so in history class, so Edward was in his direct line of sight.

It was unnerving, not to mention a little pathetic.

It wasn't that Jasper lacked friends. He wasn't conceited about it, but Jasper was popular among his peers, athletic, a good student…charming in a diffident way that meant he never lacked a date for important functions.

But there was something about Edward. Something that intrigued and attracted him.

And when he thought too much about it, he decided it was better not to think too much about it.

A loud slam drew his attention back across the hall and Jasper winced when he saw Mike Newton and his no-necked wrestling buddies surrounding Edward. The book he'd been reading lay on the floor, obviously where Mike or one of his cronies had slapped it out of Edward's hands. Jasper could just make out his flushed and angry face between two letterman-jacket-clad shoulders, and he slammed his locker door shut with a bang, halfway across the hall before he realized what he was doing.

"You are a pretty one," Mike leered, his friends laughing raucously. "Are you sure you're not a girl? Maybe that would explain things."

Edward just glared, reaching down for his book – only to have Tyler Crowley kick it out of the way.

"Oh," he said mockingly, picking up the book and flipping through it. "Did you want this?" Edward reached for the book, but Tyler snatched it away, holding it behind his back.

"Give him his book, Tyler," Jasper said in a low voice, not meeting Edward's eyes. "Don't be a dick."

"Oh, he'd like that, wouldn't you _Eddie_?" Mike sneered. "I hear you really like dicks."

"Fuck you," Edward muttered.

"No thanks, Nancy," Mike retorted.

"Just shut up and leave him alone." Jasper worked his way between Mike and Tyler's shoulders, turning to stand in front of Edward. "Give him back his damn book and leave him alone."

Mike's eyes narrowed. "Why are you defending him, Whitlock? Don't you know he's a goddamned—"

"Mr. Newton." Principal Swan appeared in the hallway, his nasal voice cutting the air – and the tension – like a blade. "I'll thank you to watch your language."

"Yes, Sir," Mike said, teeth gritted. "Sorry, Sir."

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" the principal asked, arms crossed and wing-tipped shoe tapping on the linoleum as he looked at each student in turn, none of them meeting his gaze.

Jasper began to speak, but Mike quickly interrupted.

"No, Sir. No problem." He motioned to Tyler, grabbing the book and handing it to Edward. "Edward here just dropped his book and we were helping him out."

Principal Swan turned suspicious eyes Edward's direction. "Is that true, Mr. Cullen?"

Jasper watched Edward closely, not really wanting to be a snitch, but ready to back him up if need be.

Edward just cleared his throat and nodded.

"All right, then," the principal said, wiping his hands together. "I think you boys better get to class before you're marked tardy."

A chorus of mumbled _yes,_ _Sirs_ preceded the boys going their separate ways, Mike casting one last dark look at Edward before he headed down the hall with his friends. Principal Swan stopped Edward with a hand on his shoulder.

"I certainly hope trouble isn't going to follow you around here, Mr. Cullen," he said gravely.

"No, Sir."

"It wasn't his fault—" Jasper began, only to gain a scathing look from Edward.

"No, Sir," Edward repeated firmly.

"Good," the principal said with a nod, withdrawing his hand before turning abruptly and returning to his office.

Edward stuffed the book in his pocket and picked up his guitar case, his cheeks still red with fury.

"Are you all right?" Jasper asked.

Edward glared at him before striding away. "I'm fine. And I don't need your help. I didn't ask for your help."

Jasper gaped for a moment, then hurried to catch up. "I…I know that."

"I can take care of myself, you know."

"I'm sure you can," Jasper replied, matching Edward's long stride. "But four against one isn't exactly a fair fight."

Edward said nothing, just peered at him out of the corner of his eye for a moment.

"I'm…I'm Jasper." He held out a hand awkwardly as they walked quickly down the hall. Edward glanced at it in confusion.

"I know who you are."

"And…you're Edward," Jasper continued lamely, finally pulling his hand back and sliding it into his pocket.

Edward sighed heavily, stopping outside of the Chemistry lab. "Look, Jasper. You seem like a decent guy. And I know you were trying to help me out back there, and I appreciate it. I really do."

"Yeah, I can tell," Jasper muttered.

Edward's lips quirked slightly. "Yeah, well…" He looked away, shrugging slightly. "You just…you probably want to stay away from me."

"Why?"

Edward stared at him for a moment, his throat working slightly, like he was trying to find the right words.

But at that moment, the bell rang, and Edward turned and walked into the lab without saying anything further.

Jasper was five minutes late to English.

~0~

Coach Kirpane ended practice early, claiming a headache that Jasper suspected was more likely the remains of a hangover. He hung around after the other guys had left, shooting a few baskets and thinking about the events of the day.

It wasn't strange that he'd stand up for Edward, right? I mean, anybody would have done it.

But Edward's response was odd. Why would he tell Jasper to stay away from him? And what did Mike Newton have against him anyway? It's not like he'd been at school long enough to do something to piss him off.

Jasper lined up a perfect long shot but took no pleasure in the gentle swoosh as the ball hit its mark. He jogged over to retrieve the ball, stuffing it back into the rack before grabbing his bag and heading out to the parking lot, lost in thought.

The lot was nearly empty except for his car and a few others, and Jasper inhaled sharply as he recognized the old Ford truck with the hood up. Edward hunched over the engine, fiddling with something for a minute before he snapped upright, shaking his hand with a loud curse.

"Are you okay?" Jasper asked.

"Fuck!" Edward jumped, yelling again. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry," Jasper muttered. "Car trouble?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. The _no_ _shit_ seemed implied.

"You uh…need any help?"

Edward sighed, rubbing his greasy hands on a rag and throwing it at the engine in frustration. "I don't know. It could be the carburetor…or the starter. I can't figure it out here, though. I'll need to tow it home."

Jasper glanced at his own Thunderbird convertible. "Well, I don't think I can tow it, but I can give you a ride home. I mean, if you want." He shrugged, feigning indifference, when in reality his heart pounded in his chest, his stomach roiling wildly with nerves as he waited for Edward's response.

Edward hesitated for a moment, scanning the parking lot as if looking for another option.

"It's just a ride home, Edward," Jasper said irritably.

To his credit, Edward reddened slightly. "Yeah. That would be great. Thanks."

Jasper nodded, circling around to get into the car and reaching across to pop the lock. Edward tapped on the soft top with his fingertips for a moment before taking a deep breath and getting in, sliding his guitar case into the back seat.

"It's on the other side of town—" he warned.

"Yeah. The old Hale place. I know."

They rode in silence for a while, Jasper watching Edward out of the corner of his eye.

"So," he said finally. "You're from Chicago?"

Edward cleared his throat. "Yeah."

Jasper swallowed nervously. "I don't imagine there are a lot of farms around there."

Edward snorted. "Uh…no." Jasper waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more. He pulled a wrinkled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, sliding one between his lips and lighting it with a silver lighter. He rolled the window down a little, blowing a stream of smoke out the crack.

"You want one?" he asked, holding up the pack.

Jasper shook his head, clearing his throat nervously.

"Got to be a big change," Jasper said after a moment. "Coming here, I mean."

"I suppose."

Jasper gave an exasperated huff. "You're not making this very easy."

Edward turned in his seat and Jasper could feel his glare. "Making _what_ easy, exactly?"

"What is your problem?" Jasper shot him an irritated look. "I'm just trying to be nice."

"Why?"

Jasper choked on a laugh. "Why be nice?"

"Yeah."

"Uh…because I'm a nice guy?"

"No," Edward snapped. "I mean, why be nice to _me_? I've seen you around school. You have tons of friends. Why do you care about me?"

Jasper shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled.

"Oh, that's brilliant." Edward sneered, taking another drag and flicking the ash out the window. "Just need another charity case, maybe? Chance for Jasper Whitlock to play the hero?"

"That's not it."

"Bet it would look great on your college applications. Maybe under 'Philanthropy?'"

"Shut up."

"Well, I don't need your fucking charity."

"It's not charity!" Jasper shouted, finally fed up. "It's just. You're…interesting, okay?"

Edward gaped at him for a moment, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Interesting?"

"I've lived here my whole life," Jasper explained, his face hot with embarrassment and frustration. "Everyone around here is the same, all right? You're…different. You're _interesting_."

The word hung in the air for a long moment, then, to Jasper's surprise, Edward started laughing.

"What's so fucking funny?"

Edward shook his head, gasping for breath. "Different. Yeah. I'm different, all right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Edward blew more smoke out the window, a slight smile on his lips. "Nothing."

Jasper gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Look. I just thought we could maybe be friends, you know? Unless you have so many of those you don't need another one."

Edward considered that a moment, looking out the window at the trees flashing by.

"I suppose I could use one of those," he said finally, turning to Jasper with the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-grin.

Jasper smirked back, a rush of relief warming his stomach. "Good. That's…good."

~0~

After that, Jasper and Edward took to spending much of their spare time together. Edward's truck was still up on blocks in his father's garage. (It turned out, Edward was not truly a "farm boy" after all, since his father wasn't actually a farmer. He worked the swing shift at a service station at the edge of town, and was trying to start up his own business rebuilding engines.) Mr. Cullen was still asleep when Edward needed to go to school, so Jasper picked him up every morning and brought him home every evening. Edward usually hung out in the library doing his homework while Jasper was at basketball practice, although once in a while he'd wander into the gym, lurking high on the bleachers and reading a book while he waited.

Jasper pretended not to notice the curious glances or hear the snide comments as they walked down the hallway between classes. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what they were saying about Edward…and now about him. He heard the whispers…hurtful words hidden behind cupped hands and lowered eyelids.

_Queer._

_Pervert._

_Faggot._

At first, Jasper would stiffen at the sound, fists clenched and arms braced for battle. But Edward convinced him that no good would come of it.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Who cares what they think, anyway?"

Even Jasper's friends treated him differently, and one day when Edward showed up in the gym, Ben approached Jasper carefully when Coach Kirpane disappeared into the locker room.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked quietly.

"About what?"

Ben shrugged uncomfortably. "Hanging out with Cullen. Have you heard what people are saying?"

Jasper feigned ignorance out of spite. He wanted to hear Ben say it out loud. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Ben rolled a basketball between his hands, not meeting his eyes. "They say Cullen's a…"

"A what?"

Ben dropped the ball, catching it awkwardly on the bounce. "Never mind. Just…be careful, okay?"

Jasper finally took pity on him. "We're _friends_ ," he said. "Edward's a good guy, really. You should talk to him, and you'd see that."

Ben shook his head. "My dad would kill me," he said, so quiet it was barely audible.

Jasper was going to pursue it further, but at that moment another basketball flew across the gym and hit him in the side of the head.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, whirling around. The ball bounced back the way it came, only to be swept up by Eric Yorkie.

"Sorry, man," Eric said, but the smirk on his face left no doubt that he'd done it on purpose.

Jasper's anger surged to the surface and he strode over to Eric, shoving him with both hands. "What the hell's your problem?"

Ben grabbed his arm. "Jasper, don't."

Jasper shook him off with a furious glare before advancing on Eric once again. "You got something to say to me, say it," he said through gritted teeth, noticing that the rest of the team had lined up behind Eric, leaving only Ben at his side.

"Okay, fine," Eric snarled, glancing over Jasper's shoulder to where he knew Edward was sitting. "This is a closed practice."

Jasper snorted. "Since when?"

"Since we decided we don't like his kind –" he said with a jerk of his head toward Edward, "– hanging out in here, watching us."

"Oh, for God's sake," Jasper said with a humorless laugh. "He's not _watching_ anyone. He's just waiting for a ride home."

"Yeah, right," Eric snorted. "He wants a ride, all right." The rest of the team laughed uncomfortably, and Jasper felt his temper rise.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Yorkie."

Eric stepped forward, pegging Jasper in the chest with a finger. "Yeah? You seem to be awfully buddy-buddy with Cullen, don't you Jasper? Maybe you're just like him. Maybe you should just go take your _boyfriend_ home."

Jasper didn't think. He didn't breathe. He just surged forward on a burst of fury, tackling Eric Yorkie to the gleaming wood floor and lifting a fist to pound it into his face, almost laughing at the satisfying crunch as it connected. He wanted to pound the smug smile away, swept up in dizzying anger, his heart pounding with anticipation.

But as he reared up to punch Eric again, strong arms encircled him from behind, dragging him to his feet.

"What the hell is going on here?" Coach Kirpane shouted as Eric got to his feet, tenderly wiping blood from his broken nose.

"I don't know," he said, turning wide eyes on the coach. "He just came at me."

"What?" Jasper shouted in outrage. "He started it!"

"Is that right?" The coach asked the team, stern eyes moving from one to the next. None of them would look up. Not even Ben came to his defense.

"Fine," Jasper snapped, yanking out of the coach's grip. "You want me gone? I'm gone." He turned and stalked away, grabbing his bag and ignoring Coach Kirpane's demand that he come back this instant, or he could forget about starting in the next game. His step faltered when he spotted Edward, halfway down the bleachers, like he'd been on his way to intervene. Jasper walked right past him, slamming through the gym door and smiling with satisfaction when it bounced off the wall.

He didn't slow down until he reached his car, and as he unlocked the door, he saw Edward come out of the school, making his way toward him. He waited, impatiently tapping on the steering wheel until Edward got settled beside him, then peeled out of the school parking lot with a loud squeal.

"That'll teach them," Edward said wryly.

Jasper smirked despite himself.

"Are you okay?" Edward asked after a long while.

Jasper sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. It's no big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal." Edward's voice was quiet, almost torn. He sat silently for a long while, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"What is it?" Jasper finally asked.

Edward sighed. "You…" he began, words hitching slightly, his eyes downcast. "You've never asked me. If it's true." He didn't look up, but Jasper noticed his fingers trembling nervously against his thighs.

Without thinking, he reached across the seat, grabbing Edward's hand in his own. Edward's eyes flew up in surprise before he slowly, hesitantly, turned his hand over so they were palm to palm. Jasper squeezed his fingers slightly.

"I never asked," he said. "Because it doesn't matter."

And as he drove the last few miles to Edward's house, he didn't question the fact that sitting there in his car, holding Edward's hand, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

~0~

"How come I never hear you play?" Jasper asked one day while they were in his room studying for an upcoming History test. Edward lay sprawled across the floor going through his notes, and Jasper sat cross-legged on his bed, his history text flipped open before him, although his attention kept straying back and forth from Edward to where his ever-present guitar case stood propped against the wall.

"Huh?" Edward asked distractedly, flipping a page.

"Your guitar," Jasper persisted. "How come I've never heard you play it?"

Edward just shrugged, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I never knew you wanted to."

"Are you any good?" Jasper teased, getting up to retrieve the case. "Or do you just think carrying this around makes you look all cool and mysterious?"

Edward snorted, moving to sit next to Jasper on the bed, their shoulders touching and the guitar case across their laps.

"I don't need this to look cool," he pointed out cockily, flipping open the latches and lifting the lid. He pulled out the guitar and was just about to close the case when Jasper stopped him.

"Who's that?" he asked, pointing to a faded photograph of a smiling dark-haired woman, pinned to the lining.

Edward set the case down on the floor and began tuning the strings on the guitar. "My mom," he said quietly. "She…left."

"Oh." Jasper watched him warily, curious, but unsure if he should ask anything more.

Edward turned sideways on the bed, one leg tucked under the other as he strummed idly. "I was twelve. I just came home from school and she was gone," he explained. "No note. Nothing."

"I'm…sorry," Jasper said lamely.

Edward began to pick out a tune on the guitar. "My father never said anything," he continued. "But I think she knew…about me." His eyes flicked up to meet Jasper's briefly. "I think she knew, and she just couldn't handle it. So she left."

Jasper turned to face him. "You can't know that."

Edward shrugged. "It doesn't matter. She's gone."

Jasper watched his fingers play over the strings of the guitar for a moment. "Does…does your father know?" he asked.

Edward smiled humorlessly. "Oh, he knows," he said. "He just likes to pretend he doesn't."

Jasper didn't know what to say to that, so instead he asked, "What is that?" gesturing toward the guitar.

Edward looked up, his fingers sliding smoothly along the frets as he strummed. "You don't know Bob Dylan?" He smirked, switching to the recognizable first chords of _I_ _Wanna_ _Hold_ _Your_ _Hand._

"Oh, God," Jasper groaned. "Don't tell me you actually like The Beatles!"

Edward grinned. "They're not bad. Not really my taste, though…all that bouncing around and _OOOooooo-ing_." He mimicked Paul McCartney's wide-eyed expression, wobbling his head back and forth, before switching abruptly back to the soft melody he'd been playing earlier.

Jasper's breath caught in his throat when Edward began to sing.

_How many roads must a man walk down,_

_Before you can call him a man?_

_How many seas much a white dove sail,_

_Before she sleeps in the sand?_

_Yes, how many times must the cannonballs fly,_

_Before they're forever banned?_

_The answer my friend, is blowin' in the wind_

_The answer is blowin' in the wind_

Jasper had to swallow deeply before he could speak. "It sounds…" He hesitated, searching for the right word. _Revolutionary?_ _Controversial?_ _Dangerous?_

In the end, he settled for, "Hopeful."

Edward smiled slightly, still playing. "Yeah. It is. A lot of people don't hear that. They think of Dylan as anti-American…or a troublemaker. They don't see that he sees a future where there's peace…and freedom…and love, for everyone – no matter who you are." He blushed slightly, his fingers fumbling a bit before he picked up the tune again.

"You think that's really possible?" Jasper asked.

Edward looked up at him, green eyes wide and bright. "Yeah. I do. Someday. We just have to make it happen, you know?"

A strange tingling filtered along Jasper's skin, heat infusing his chest and working its way throughout his body. Unconsciously, he leaned forward, drawn by an unknown force to get closer to Edward. He licked his lips, his heart pounding feverishly as his breath quickened. Edward flinched slightly at the movement, his eyes widening in shock at the longing on Jasper's face.

"Jasper," he whispered, his hands stilling on the guitar. "What are you doing?"

Jasper reached out tentatively, his fingers barely touching Edward's cheek as he moved closer, warm breath mingling between barely parted lips.

"I don't know," he whispered back, just before he leaned in to kiss Edward softly. It was timid…gentle…barely a brush of chapped skin and moist breath. He pulled back slightly, dizzy and uncertain, but Edward surged forward to close the gap between them, capturing his lips again with a quiet whimper.

Jasper's head whirled at the feel of Edward's kiss, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other clutching desperately at his shoulder. They nipped at each other's lips, tasting…testing…exploring this strange new world, and unable to avoid crossing the line – turning the corner – that neither had seen coming until it was far too late.

Edward's lips parted, his tongue sliding slowly along Jasper's mouth, waiting…asking. Jasper's response was immediate – a tilt of his head as his mouth opened, giving into temptation. The kiss heated, growing frantic and filthy…sucking at tongues, teeth gnashing in rampant abandon.

Edward broke away, gasping, only long enough to set the guitar next to them on the bed. He grabbed Jasper's shirt roughly in a fist, his eyes wild as he tugged him forward and onto his lap. Jasper shuddered, his head falling back as Edward kissed his throat, lips trailing up and down the pale expanse before locking on his Adam's apple. He shifted closer to Edward…and closer still, his legs sliding apart to straddle his hips…a shocked groan bursting from him – from both of them – as their cocks brushed harshly against each other, hard and aching.

"Fuck," Edward gritted out, gripping his hips with white-knuckled fingers…jerking upward as Jasper ground onto him. Swept up in the heat…the sweet, sticky rush of want and need…they rutted against each other shamelessly until Edward lay back, pulling Jasper on top of him.

"Don't stop," he begged, as if Jasper could. Their legs slotted together, hips thrusting against thighs, fingers scratching, tongues twisting and tasting. Jasper tugged at the tails of Edward's shirt, unable to think clearly enough to unbutton it, just shoving it up so he could lower a mouth to Edward's chest, lapping at a nipple until Edward hissed sharply. Edward's hands swept down his back, hesitating only briefly before sliding below his waist, rubbing tentatively at his ass before taking a firmer hold, squeezing and kneading in time with their furious thrusts.

"Shit!" Jasper hissed, his hips jerking erratically. He could feel it happening – the sharp tightening in his gut…his balls…the fever-sweet tension riding up with each grind against Edward's thigh. Everything around them vanished, the world consisting only of heat and sweat and _oh-my-god-you-feel-so-good_.

Jasper watched, mesmerized, as Edward threw his head back, jaw clenched tightly as he arched up, nearly bucking Jasper off of him. He held fast, locking his thighs around Edward's as the sharp pleasure-pain shot through his cock, erupting in shudders of release. They clung to each other, desperate and shocked, until finally their muscles relaxed, twitching slightly as they settled into each other.

"Gotta say," Edward mumbled after a while, fingers twisting in Jasper's hair, "I didn't see that coming."

Jasper snorted at the pun. "Me neither."

Edward shifted, and Jasper lifted up onto his elbow to find Edward watching him closely. "What?" he asked.

Edward bit his lip nervously. "Are you…okay?"

Jasper nodded. "Yeah."

And it wasn't a lie. Jasper wondered why he didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable – well, except for the obvious discomfort of his now-damp jeans. But somehow, even though this was strange and new and probably dangerous…

It was also right.

He kissed Edward again and settled his head on his chest, closing his eyes and just enjoying the moment.

~0~

The days melted into weeks, and then months, the chill of winter giving way to the green warmth of spring. For Jasper, it was a time of awakening – of both excitement and fear. He and Edward spent every spare moment together. With basketball season over, it meant long afternoons at Edward's house while his father was at work…either in his room, exploring and learning each other's bodies…or in the empty fields behind the barn, talking and wishing...planning for the future between soft kisses and gentle caresses. Edward had big plans of working to help make the world a better place. He spoke of Bobby Kennedy and Dr. King and Dylan with a kind of reverent awe and a single-minded determination. When they were together, anything seemed possible – the invincibility of youth only further armored by the bright-eyed optimism of burgeoning young love.

They had to be careful, of course. Both of them knew that others would not be accepting of their relationship. So when Jasper's father would eye Edward closely, pointedly asking if he had a girlfriend, Edward would smile smugly and say, "Not at the moment, Sir." And when Edward's father asked them what they'd been doing all evening, Jasper would hold up his history book and grumble about too much homework.

At school, they were careful to keep a respectable space between them, resisting the urge to link fingers or lean into each other's warmth. But when they were alone, it was a different story. Their hunger for each other was deep and unrelenting – and although this was newer to Jasper than to Edward, he seemed eager to catch up, willing to do whatever Edward suggested…desiring only to please him and be pleased by him in return.

It was Edward's suggestion that they apply to college in California.

"Berkeley," he said. "It's different there. We could get an apartment together…walk down the street together…and nobody would care."

Jasper intercepted the mail every day, and when the acceptance letter came, he hid it in his bottom drawer, well out of sight of his father. He wasn't sure how to break it to Jasper Senior that he would not be following the family legacy of going to State. He felt reckless and not a little nauseous at the thought, and dealt with it by not dealing with it. He just put it off for another day, choosing instead to ignore reality and focus all of his attentions on Edward.

One warm evening, they climbed onto Edward's roof, lying back against the rough shingles, arms and legs entwined as the sun set on the horizon. The sky turned swirling shades of red and orange and pink…cooling to indigo as the first sprinkling of stars appeared overhead.

"I love you," Edward whispered into Jasper's hair, the words tickling across his skin.

Jasper tilted his head to press a kiss to Edward's chin. "I love you, too," he said, the simple declaration binding them, body and soul, as darkness fell, wrapping them in a loving embrace.

~0~

"Jasper, we can't go to the prom together."

"Well, not _together_ together, obviously," Jasper said with a roll of his eyes. "But we could go stag. It's a rite of passage. Do you really want to miss it?"

Edward shrugged. "It's not like I have a ton of friends here, Jasper, besides you, and maybe Bella." For some reason, the principal's daughter had showed up at their lunch table one day and never left. Jasper wasn't sure if she befriended the two of them because she felt sorry for them, or as some sort of act of rebellion, but she was nice and fun, and he had to admit he liked her.

The rest of his friends had turned their backs on him. Even Alice had gone from shooting him glances laced with hurt and confusion – to ones more angry, bordering on malice, and finally switched to ignoring him altogether, taking up with James Hunter, the captain of the baseball team. Mike Newton and Eric Yorkie and their flunkies continued to torment Edward…and Jasper as well, shoving into them in the hall, or knocking the books out of their hands. Jasper came out to the parking lot one afternoon to find _faggot_ carved into the hood of his precious Thunderbird.

He gritted his teeth, eyes blurred with furious tears as he stared at the offending word. But he was glaringly aware of the crowd watching for his response, so he just got in his car with Edward and drove away.

It wasn't until they were well out of view of the school that he pulled off the road and wept into Edward's shoulder.

Edward's father had repaired the damage without saying a word.

To Jasper's surprise, he and Edward found an ally in Rosalie, who defended her brother to anyone who spoke against him, and even told Jasper in hushed tones that she thought the two of them made a cute couple.

"He's too good for you, though," she'd added with a smirk, and Jasper smiled, the dig warming his heart more than he could have imagined.

They'd spurned the school social scene, opting to spend the majority of their time together alone, but for some reason Jasper had an urge to go to the prom. Maybe it was his own rebellion, a way to show those who whispered about him behind his back that it didn't matter. That they didn't matter. He chose to think it was something simpler. Just a chance to be with Edward – to make a memory that they both could cherish.

"Come on, Edward," he wheedled. "We can get dressed up."

"I hate getting dressed up."

"I'll buy you dinner."

"We could stay home and eat pizza. I like pizza."

Jasper grinned, wrapping his arms around Edward's neck, playing with the hair curling at his nape. "I'll bring you flowers," he teased, kissing his jaw.

Edward snorted, but he pulled Jasper closer, hands on his hips.

"Okay," he relented finally, "but I'm not wearing a dress."

Jasper's mouth dropped open. "But you have such great legs!"

Edward threw him on the bed and jumped on top of him, tickling him mercilessly until they were both breathless and hard. Their laughter transformed into whimpered moans and wet, sloppy kisses. They came together not in a frenzy of want, but in a kind of warm longing…slow and deep and achingly sweet. Jasper looked into Edward's eyes, heavy lidded and dark, and wondered at the feeling of being so cherished…so loved.

And he reveled in the joy of cherishing and loving in return.

~0~

The prom was exactly what Jasper expected – a blur of crepe paper streamers and balloons, loud music, and shy couples that got less shy as the evening wore on (making the chaperones earn their keep as they enforced the mandatory one-foot rule). He and Jasper had opted not to tempt fate by arriving together, and since Edward's truck was now running fine, they decided to meet at the dance. After much discussion, they'd compromised: One hour. No dancing. Maybe a little making out under the bleachers if the opportunity presented itself.

Jasper spotted Bella on the dance floor as he walked into the dark gymnasium, dancing with a tall, dark-haired fellow he didn't recognize. She waved at him with a wide smile, and he nodded in response, scanning the gym for any sign of Edward. He made his way to the refreshment table, taking a cup of punch that he discovered was heavily spiked only after taking a long swallow. He forced a smile at the girl manning the punch bowl and took another cup before finding a seat amidst the scattered tables set up along one end of the gym floor.

The band was good, not great, playing a mix of popular tunes along with a few folk ballads that he now recognized thanks to Edward's passion for all things Dylan and Woody Guthrie and Joan Baez. He tapped his toe along with the beat as he sipped the strong punch, the alcohol relaxing him quickly. His eyes scanned the dancing couples lazily, glad he was at least partially hidden in the darkness. He could see Eric Yorkie dancing with Angela Weber…and Mike Newton with Jessica Stanley. A cluster of girls huddled together near the bandstand, giggling and bouncing on their toes.

A tall figure cut through the crowd, clad in black – of course – from head to toe, his hair a wild, riotous mess on his head. Jasper smiled, his heart thumping at the sight of him, fighting the urge to jump up and into his arms. Instead, he schooled his features into a slight smirk, slouching down into his chair.

"Nice suit," he said when Edward got close enough to hear, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to him. "Still think a dress would have been better."

"Very funny," Edward said, swiping his punch and swallowing the rest in one gulp. He choked, and Jasper patted his back with a laugh.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm pretty sure Newton got to the punch bowl."

Edward laughed. "I guess so."

They spent the next hour sipping punch and pretending to watch the couples on the dance floor as they touched each other quickly and secretly under the table – a flick of a finger over a thigh…a nudge of shoe against shoe. When they finally couldn't bear it anymore, their eyes met, hot and eager over the table.

"Can we leave now?" Edward asked.

"Hell, yeah," Jasper breathed.

They walked quickly out of the gym, almost running in their haste, and out into the parking lot.

"Can we go to your house?"

"No, my parents are home. How about yours?"

"My dad's off tonight. He's home too."

"Shit!" Jasper shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his erection, his skin prickling with heat as Edward's eyes followed the movement.

"How about your car?" he asked huskily, his throat working as Jasper's hand hovered over his cock teasingly.

Jasper nodded, pulling his keys from his pocket as they hurried to the far side of the parking lot, getting into the car, and falling into each other's arms.

"God," Edward mumbled, "why didn't we just do this instead?"

Jasper laughed. "Rite of passage, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Edward said against his mouth, his fingers messing up Jasper's neatly-combed hair.

Jasper moaned into his mouth, pressing Edward back against the car door with his body. Edward scrabbled at his back, shoving at his jacket, and Jasper shrugged out of it impatiently, tossing it into the back seat before attacking Edward's tie.

"You look so good in this," he muttered, yanking open the top button of Edward's shirt and licking at the skin revealed. "You should wear a tie more often."

"I'll think about it," Edward said breathlessly, shifting his hips against Jasper's urgently. "Jasper…god…please…"

Jasper just nodded frantically, tugging at Edward's belt. Then all of the sudden, Edward fell away, dragging him along until they lay tangled on the damp asphalt of the school parking lot. Disoriented, Jasper looked up to see Mike Newton leaning on the open car door, his lip curled in disgust.

"Well, look what we have here," he sneered. "Did we interrupt something, ladies?"

Jasper scrambled to his feet and reached down to help Edward up, anxiety coiling in his belly when he saw Mike wasn't alone. Eric was with him…Tyler…and four others, all hulking figures wearing matching expressions of disdain. Jasper could smell the alcohol on their breath…feel the threat pouring off of their skin.

"Look, guys, we don't want any trouble," Edward began.

"Oh, you don't, _Eddie?_ _"_ Mike said mockingly, shoving Edward back against the car. "Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you came here, you sick, perverted fuck!"

"Mike, knock it off," Jasper said, stepping between them and eyeing the open car door. Mike saw it, though, and maneuvered himself into the opening.

No escape.

"Oh, protecting your _boyfriend_ , Jasper?" he said. "How romantic. Isn't that sweet, guys?"

"Like a fucking fairy tale," Eric said. "Get it?" He elbowed Tyler, who burst out laughing.

Jasper's eyes scanned the parking lot, locked hopefully on the school doors. "You guys don't want to do anything. A teacher's bound to come out here to check things out any minute."

"No one's coming out here," Eric said, slipping out of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "Not until we teach you boys a little lesson." He tilted his head, his neck popping loudly, then tightened his hands into white-knuckled fists.

They tried to run.

They tried to fight back.

But in the end, it was six against two, and they didn't have a chance. Fists flew, cracking bone and tearing skin…blood splattering against the asphalt and hateful shouts peppered with groans of pain filling the air.

And still no one came.

Jasper collapsed on the ground in a heap, blood flowing from his nose and his mouth. He could see Mike and Eric working Edward over a few feet away, punching and kicking him mercilessly. Edward lay still, his beautiful face swollen and bloody.

"No!" Jasper shouted hoarsely, a hand extended fruitlessly.

"You fucking faggot!" someone yelled, kicking Jasper in the stomach, then stomping on his outstretched hand. He clutched the broken hand to his chest, moaning in agony.

Then a kick to his head connected, and the world went black.

~0~

" _Jasper? Oh, my God, call an ambulance!"_

Jasper's life laid out before him…a long, straight empty road.

" _He's lost a lot of blood. Start an I.V.!"_

No twists or turns…no dips or potholes. Just an easy path…due North.

" _What the hell happened to him? He looks like he was hit by a car."_

But then, a slow curve on the highway…so slight he didn't realize he was turning at first. Didn't realize he was heading West until he saw the brilliant red-orange sunset appear before him.

" _Jasper, can you hear me?"_

The sunset was Edward…bringing light and color into his dull, black and white life.

" _Jasper, wake up."_

Then, just like the sunset, he was gone, leaving in his wake only the emptiness of night.

~0~

Jasper's eyes opened slowly, a sharp pain in his skull accompanying his return to consciousness. It took a moment for him to identify his surroundings as that of a hospital room. His head – his whole body, really – ached, but a blissful numbness hovered over him, dulling the pain.

"Jasper?" His mother's worried face appeared, blurry at first, then sharpening after a moment. "How do you feel, honey?"

"Mom?" he mumbled in confusion. "What happened?" Then it all came flooding back and he tried to sit up in the hospital bed, hissing as his body fought the movement.

"Where's Edward?" he asked.

His mother's eyes glistened with tears, her hand flying to her lips. She just shook her head and stepped back as the doctor entered the room.

"You're awake," he said, leaning over to listen to Jasper's heart. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he said impatiently, dread curling in his stomach. "My friend…Edward. How is he?"

The doctor used a small light to examine his eyes. "He was very seriously injured," he said.

"But he'll be okay, right?" Jasper shook his head out of the doctor's grasp, wincing at the resulting pain. "He'll be okay?"

"Calm down, please. You need rest."

"Don't tell me to calm down," Jasper said, his agitation increasing. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a dizziness swimming through his head.

The doctor spared a quick glance at Jasper's parents before swallowing deeply, not meeting his eyes. "I…uh…" he said finally. "It's too soon to say."

"Can I see him?"

"Jasper," his father interrupted. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Can I see him?" Jasper repeated firmly, keeping his eyes on the doctor.

The man's gaze flickered for a moment, then fell. "I'm afraid that's out of the question," he said quietly. "Only immediate family is allowed."

Jasper collapsed back onto the pillow, suddenly exhausted.

"You should rest," the doctor said, adjusting his I.V.

And that was the last thing he heard for a long while.

~0~

Jasper woke several hours later to hushed angry whispers.

"Don't upset him," his mother hissed. "He's been through enough."

"Lila, let the men do their jobs," his father said gruffly. Jasper opened his eyes in time to see him wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her back toward the wall. He blinked at the sight of two dark-suited men standing near the side of his bed.

"What's happening?" he asked sleepily.

"Hello, Jasper," the taller of the two men said. "I'm Detective Waters. This is my partner, Detective Cleary." He indicated the man behind him with a wave of his hand. "We're here to talk to you about what happened."

Jasper nodded slightly, and Detective Cleary reached into his jacket pocket for a small notebook and pen. He caught his mother's teary gaze and swallowed thickly.

"Dad, maybe you should take Mom out of here. She doesn't need to hear this."

"I'm fine," Lila argued.

"Lila, he's right," Jasper Senior said soothingly. "Let's go get some coffee." He turned to his son. "You'll be all right?"

Jasper nodded, and the two of them left the room. He turned to the police. "What do you want to know?"

He answered their questions truthfully, almost dully, reciting the events of prom night while purposely trying not to relive them. The image of Edward lying on the ground, bleeding and bruised, pushed at the edge of his consciousness, but he kept pushing back, not sure if he could examine it fully without breaking down.

When he finished, he looked up defiantly at Detective Waters, almost daring him to ask why six boys would want to beat up two…what could possibly lead to so much hate.

But Waters just looked at him kindly…understanding. He knew, Jasper realized. He already knew.

"And that's all you remember?" the detective asked.

Jasper nodded, his good hand lifting to the bandage on his head. "Tyler kicked me in the head and I blacked out. You'll have to ask Edward about the rest when he wakes up."

The detective started in surprise, exchanging a significant look with his partner.

"What?" Jasper asked. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry, Jasper. I thought you knew," Detective Waters said quietly.

"Knew what?"

The detective cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Edward died on the way to the hospital," he said finally. "He didn't make it."

"No," Jasper gasped. "No, you're wrong. The doctor said he's unconscious. He just needs to wake up."

"I'm sorry, Jasper."

"No!" He tore at the sheets, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "You've made a mistake. I'll find him." He got to his feet, swaying dangerously, a wave of dizziness and nausea sweeping through him as he ripped the I.V. from his hand.

Detective Waters reached for him. "Jasper, you should get back in bed."

Jasper shoved him off with a strength he didn't know he had, and the detective stumbled back into his partner as Jasper staggered toward the door. He fumbled with the doorknob, finally flinging the door open, shocked eyes widening at the sight of the doctor on the other side. He reached for him, fingers gripping into the crisp white sleeves covering the doctor's upper arms.

"Tell them," he demanded. "Tell them Edward's just sleeping!"

The doctor sighed heavily. "Jasper…"

"Tell them he's not dead!" he shouted, hot pain that had nothing to do with his injuries racing through him. "Tell them!" Out of the corner of his eye he could see his parents racing toward him down the hall, paper cups of coffee dropping to the floor, leaving black wet trails behind.

"Tell them!" he sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Jasper."

"No!" His legs gave out and Jasper crumpled to the floor in a heap. "Edward," he moaned, curling up into an agonized ball. His mother wrapped her arms around him, sobbing loudly, but Jasper felt nothing but pain and loss and emptiness.

Then the prick of a needle…and nothing.

~0~

Six months…suspended.

In the end that was all they got.

Six months suspended and sixty hours of community service. That was apparently what Edward's life was worth.

Jasper testified at the trial, but in the end it was his word against all of theirs.

Their ridiculous claim of a school yard fight that just got out of control.

Their statement that it was an accident.

They were sorry.

They didn't mean for it to happen.

He felt the judgmental eyes of the jury as the defense attorney described Jasper's "unnatural" relationship with Edward. After it was all over, he sometimes wondered if the jury just figured since he was queer, he must also be a liar.

Or if they truly believed that he and Edward got what they deserved.

It didn't matter, though. When the judge read the verdict, he listened numbly, unable to care.

Edward was gone. Nothing that happened now would ever bring him back.

So what did it matter?

The days and weeks dragged by. He managed to earn his diploma, but didn't go to graduation. He avoided his friends and sat in his room looking blankly out the window. Bella came by once and tried to talk to him, but left disappointed when all he would give her were numb, one-word answers.

The hot summer days beat on, and Jasper sometimes thought it odd that he could feel so cold when the sun shone so brightly. Occasionally, he'd go up on the roof to sleep, half-hoping he'd fall off in the night and it would all be over.

He was too much of a coward to do it himself.

Jasper had missed the funeral while he was in the hospital, and countless times he'd sat in his car, intending to go to the cemetery and say goodbye once and for all.

He just couldn't do it. The thought of Edward buried beneath six feet of dirt and rock made him sick to his stomach.

He preferred to think of Edward laughing and free…flying about on the wind with the now-changing leaves.

It was early September when his father finally came to his room, saying they needed to talk. Jasper lay shirtless on his bed, the windows open to a light breeze. His radio filled the room with quiet, crackling music and Jasper just nodded, waiting for the inevitable lecture.

"Jasper, this has to stop," he began, and Jasper's mind wandered as his father continued his tirade.

"…it's been four months. I know this was difficult, but it's time to move on…"

"…hiding away up here, doing nothing…"

"…throwing away your future. You need to put this unfortunate incident behind you…"

Jasper snorted at that. "Unfortunate incident?"

His father glared at him. "It's time for you to do something with your life," he said firmly. "I've contacted the Dean of Admissions at State and he's prepared to bend some rules…"

Jasper zoned out again, his father's voice fading into the background as he withdrew. He figured he'd do what his father wanted. Go to school. Take over the business. The thought left him empty, but emptiness was pretty much his reality anymore.

A familiar tune trickled out of the radio, a soft, lilting melody that drifted over his skin. It took him a moment to identify it, but when he did, his breath caught in his throat, his father's rant becoming a low rumbling countermelody.

_How many years can a mountain exist,  
Before it is washed to the sea?_

"…miss the beginning of the Fall quarter, but I'm certain you'll be able to catch up…"

_How many years can some people exist,  
Before they're allowed to be free?_

"…get you a tutor if need be, you know money is no object…"

_And how many times can a man turn his head,  
And pretend that he just doesn't see?_

"…work at the plant with me on your breaks, learn the business so you're properly prepared…"

_The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind,  
The answer is blowin' in the wind._

Jasper squirmed uneasily, a choking feeling rising up inside of him. Every word falling from his father's lips was like a length of rope wrapping around his body, drawing tighter and tighter until he couldn't move. He struggled against the sensation of his father trying to straighten out the curves of his life…shut the door that had been thrown wide open when Edward appeared. And for a moment, it was as if Edward was there in the room with him, playing his old guitar and singing songs to him of hope and purpose and making the world a better place.

And Jasper knew he couldn't go back.

"No," he said quietly, cutting off his father's words...and then a little louder. "No."

"Well, that's all right," Jasper Senior said. "If you'd prefer to start in shipping instead of manufacturing, that's perfectly acceptable."

"That's not what I mean," Jasper said. "No. No to all of it. To State. To Whitlock Automation. To living in this fucking town for the rest of my life."

"You watch your language," his father hissed.

"No!" Jasper said, quietly but firmly. No shouting. No argument. "I'm going to California," he continued, deciding right at that moment. "I'm going to Berkeley."

"What? Berkeley? What are you talking about?"

Jasper got up from the bed, feeling alive for the first time in months. "I'm going to Berkeley," he said again. "I'm going to do… _something._ "

"Something?" his father scoffed. "You're going to do _something_? You call that a plan?"

Jasper grinned. "Yeah. I do."

"No son of mine is going to throw his whole life away—"

"I'm going," Jasper interrupted, smiling as Bob Dylan's haunting voice faded away into static.

~0~

Jasper left for California two days later, his father threatening to cut him off financially and Jasper saying, "Do what you need to do, Dad," as he packed his belongings into the back of the Thunderbird. He missed the Fall quarter, but managed to get a spot for Winter, in the meantime taking a job washing dishes at a coffee shop and renting a studio hovel on the floor above where he worked.

He considered selling his car to pay for tuition, but then received a check from his mother accompanied by a note that said simply, "Give him some time. He'll come around." So Jasper held onto the car, and between his job and the regular checks from his mother, managed to make ends meet.

He made friends, tried drugs, embraced free love, protested the war and marched for Civil rights. He licked envelopes for Bobby Kennedy's campaign, and wept with his friends when he was gunned down, just months after Dr. King was murdered in Memphis.

Jasper considered it then, giving up. But somehow, even in his darkest hours, Edward's words would come floating back to him.

" _We just have to make it happen, you know?"_

So he'd pick himself up again and get back to work.

He took a year off school and spent it with the Peace Corps in the Philippines. When he got back, he finished college, earning a degree in Journalism and going to work for the local paper. He worked his way up, finally nabbing a job with the Associated Press and traveling the world from war to war…crisis to crisis.

After years on the road he returned to San Francisco. It was the 80s and a horrific new disease dominated the headlines.

He lost friends, and held his breath every time he himself got tested.

Jasper, though, was one of the lucky ones.

The world was changing, and Jasper finally decided it was time. He wrote a book, truth wrapped in the illusion of fiction…a tale of love and loss and hope for the future.

He called it, _I_ _Once_ _Loved_ _a_ _Boy._

It never made the New York Times best-seller list, but the first time he got a letter from a young gay boy saying his book changed his life, he smiled.

He couldn't help thinking that Edward would have been proud.

Jasper continued to write, and before he knew it, he was traveling the world once again, this time speaking to crowded auditoriums about making a difference and fighting for what was right.

He wasn't rich, but he was comfortable, and he felt that he had made something of himself. He had friends and, over the years, a handful of lovers. He managed to make peace with his father before he died, something he'd always be grateful for. He laughed and cried and met challenges and saw the world change.

He lived.

Sometimes, late at night, Jasper would lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling and marvel at the strange twists and turns his life had taken…a life that at one time had seemed so straight and narrow. And years later, when his body was worn and tired and ready to just stop, he found he had no regrets.

He closed his eyes, surrounded by loved ones, and breathed his last.

And when he opened them again, the sun shone brightly, and Edward looked down at him, smiling and warm.

"I've been waiting for you," he said. "You took a long time."

Jasper just reached out to touch his beautiful face, tracing the line of his cheek, the curve of his jaw.

"Sorry about that," he said with a grin. "I took the scenic route."


End file.
